Of Onesies and Duckies

Last night, on our seventh anniversary, my beautiful bride (more beautiful than 7 years ago, my dear) and I spent the evening doing something we have never done before: register for baby implements. We are eagerly anticipating the arrival of our first blessing in October and, as such, these are the important things parents-to-be must undertake if they are to be ready for such a momentous occasion.

As we wandered around a local retail establishment, scanning items that we hope all of you will generously procure for us and our new money pit, uh, child, the following thought came to me: how on earth did our forefathers undertake to raise productive members of society without all the “conveniences” we have today. Then another thought came to me: there’s no possible way I need all this stuff just to raise a productive member of society, is there? As I lined up the scanner with the bar code on a rubber duck that changes color when the water temperature is optimal for infant immersion, I pondered when exactly the submerging of my big toe to test the water ceased to be acceptable. We roamed aisle after aisle of burp cloths, hooded towels, and “sippy” cups (do they make “gulpy” cups for the child that wants a bigger drink?) We selected food storage containers for it’s not enough that we have a cupboard full of Tupperware; the new societal member must have its own special storage devices. We perused a wide array of “onesies”, which further reinforced the circle of life to me. No offense to my AARP readers, but the very one-piece outfits that, as a teenager, I used to ridicule older men for wearing, I am now hoping you will purchase in mass quantities for our expected arrival. Evidently, not only do you live by the sword and die by the sword, you are also born in a “onesie” and die in a “onesie”. The circle of life is a beautiful thing. We selected what I’m told is commonly referred to as a travel system. Yes, travel system…for an infant. I’m 31 and am still waiting to procure my own travel system but my as yet to arrive child already will have his/her own method of chauffeured transportation. Did George Washington have a travel system? I mean, beyond the cart and horse? I can hear our forefathers groaning in their graves over the “must-haves” we listed on our registry.

Low, medium, and high flow nipples (shouldn’t the child just suck a little harder if the flow’s not quite right?); diapers for every incremental stage of growth, a myriad of safety devices; it all sent me reeling. For nearly $200, I can have a video monitoring system so at no time is my child ever out of my sight. I’m sure parents of teenagers are lining up for these. We forwent the diaper genie when I discovered it had no genie-like qualities, that is to say it could not grant me three wishes and it could not make anything disappear. Mostly, it just hid the smell of human waste until someone (probably me) got to open it and, after immediate resuscitation, take it out and dispose of the contents. Henceforth, I have begun development of my own more applicable product called the diaper scrooge.

The evening came to an end with me embracing the hard realization I have suspected for months now: there is no possible way I can ever afford this child. Infant travel systems are expensive, teenage travel systems I’m certain will be unattainable without a supplemental night job and a university education is out of the question. Here’s hoping that genie decides to come through via all of you (and rich Uncle B) for this registry list…I’m off to lease some covered parking for the infant travel system. Until next time…